


Drinking Game

by StarSongs



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drinking Contest, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Frottage, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Making Out, brief reference to elf wedding rituals, is entirely what inspired this, legolas is a flirt, movie canon, that drinking contest scene in return of the king, unbetad, with a tiny reference to book stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSongs/pseuds/StarSongs
Summary: Legolas is challenged to a drinking game and ends up getting more than he was planning.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 9
Kudos: 172





	Drinking Game

**Author's Note:**

> So, before we begin, know that this was written in like an hour, is my first work in this fandom, and is also based almost entirely on the movies. I haven't read the books since like elementary school.  
> That said, please enjoy! This was a lot of fun to write and I hope you like it!

It was rare to find a moment’s peace, let alone time for a celebration in the long months the Fellowship had been traveling, and even rarer to find something to celebrate about. That said, no one could dispute the celebration following the victory of Helm’s Deep wasn’t anything but completely necessary. Man had a glimmer of hope among the oppressive darkness of Saruman’s forces, in a time when hope was a rare treat indeed. 

Not only that but the Fellowship was once again was gifted with the presence of hobbits. Although he’d be loath to admit it, Legolas had nearly wept at the sight of the hobbits in Isengard. The worry he and the rest of their Fellowship felt towards Frodo and Sam was heavy on his mind, but at that moment as he saw the two perched on the walls of Isengard, happily puffing away at their pipes, he let those worries be replaced by relief. 

Now, back in Rohan, Legolas watched the celebrations from a corner in the back of the hall, content to keep his distance as he smiled secretly into his mug of ale. It wasn’t that Legolas wasn’t one for celebration, more so that he wasn’t accustomed to Man’s way of doing so. Back home, celebrations of this caliber were spent outside, dancing and singing beneath starlight, cups of Elvish wines filled to the brim, not in a dark and smokey hall. So, he hid away from the masses, content to enjoy the festivities in his own way. 

That is until he heard the unmistakable sound of dwarvish footsteps making their way over to him. 

“Legolas!” Gimli cried, patting the elf on the arm once he was close enough. “I’ve been searching for you.” 

Legolas schooled his face into nonchalance, taking a swig of the ale in his hands to keep any signs of the effect the dwarf’s simple words had had on him. After having spent nearly every evening there in the dwarf’s company in Lothlórien, Legolas found himself affected strongly by the smaller man. Even something as simple as saying that he’d been searching for him made heat pool deep in the elf’s belly. 

“Well, it seems that you have found me,” Legolas said. 

“Aye, it seems I have,” Gimli replied, a glint in his eye that Legolas couldn’t read. “What are you doing sulking in a corner, anyway? There is a celebration on, you know.” 

Legolas chuckled, looking down at his friend. “Have you come to steal me into the festivities?” 

“Only if you wish it,” Gimli replied, meeting the elf’s eyes. “Besides, there’s something I’d like to show you.” 

Legolas contemplated his words, the scene in front of him, and the dwarf looking at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The elf nodded, downing the last of his ale. “Lead the way.” 

This is how Legolas found himself with a mug in his hands and a set of rules being explained to him. 

“So, it’s a drinking game?” He asked, turning to face his friend. 

“Last one standing wins,” Gimli replied, an air of confidence about him as he raised his mug. 

Legolas did his best to not let his amusement show, focusing more on showing the displeasure of having to down several mugs of Rohan’s ale, which was far too bitter for his taste. Clearly, the dwarf had not partaken in any of the wine offered in either Rivendell or Lothlórien and was unaware of the potency of elvish wine, which Legolas had spent centuries drinking. Unless Men had changed their brewing practices immensely, their ale was little more than water to him. It seemed none of his companions knew this, though if he were to look closely as he took his first sip, he would see Aragorn looking their way with a mischievous and knowing grin. 

Apparently, brewing practices had changed, because several mugs in Legolas had a startling revelation. “I feel something,” he started, putting down his mug. “A slight tingling of the fingers.” He looked to the dwarf next to him. “I think it’s affecting me.” 

Gimli laughed heartily at this, wagging a finger in Legolas’ direction. “What did I say? He can’t hold his-” before he could finish his sentence, Gimli fell backward off of his chair, landing with a crash. 

Legolas stared at his fallen companion for a beat, before uttering a simple, “game over,” filing this away to hold over Gimli when his friend had regained consciousness. Several men around him clapped him on the shoulder, one ordering for Legolas’ mug to be refilled immediately. 

“As much as I would love another mug,” (he wouldn’t) “I should see that my friend gets safely to his bedroll.”

A string of disappointed cries followed this, though Legolas paid them no mind. He nudged his now prone friend with his foot, resulting in a grunt and a wave of the hand in Legolas’ direction. He laughed under his breath, crouching down so he was closer to the dwarf. 

“Come, friend, I believe you’ve had a bit too much ale,” Legolas said, shaking Gimli’s shoulder. Gimli only grunted in return, and the elf let out an exacerbated sigh. “You would never forgive me if I left you here to sleep on the floor. Come, let us get you to your bedroll.”

This got Gimli’s attention, grunting again as he made to push himself from the ground. He reached for the bench with one arm and Legolas with the other to steady himself as he stood, anchoring his hand on the elf’s thigh, and suddenly Legolas wished he  _ had  _ had a few more ales to cover the flush rising to his face at the contact. Soon enough though, Gimli’s hand left him as he made his way to his full height, Legolas standing with him. 

Gimli moved for the impromptu sleeping area, Legolas following behind closely. When Gimli took notice of this, he turned to face the elf. “I don’ need an escort to my bed, Elf.” 

Legolas only rolled his eyes, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Maybe not, but I’d rather not come across you face-down on the ground when I come to retire.”

Gimli faltered at this, looking almost disappointed. “Are you not going to sleep now?” 

“I’m taking watch tonight.” Legolas explained, before teasingly adding on, “Although I could come to bed with you if you wish.” 

The dwarf sputtered, nearly losing his footing. “That won’t be necessary!” He cried, perhaps a little too loudly, though by now they were far enough away from the party that no one seemed to hear. “It isn’t like you to say something so brash.”

Legolas tilted his head, feigning innocence. He couldn’t deny that the ale running through his system had made him feel ever so slightly bolder. “Brash?” 

“You..! Ah, nevermind.” Gimli said, muttering something under his breath, and Legolas thought he looked more flushed than he was a moment ago. Before the conversation could go on, they’d reached the impromptu bedchambers for the warriors, Gimli striding quickly to his bedroll and immediately collapsing on it. Legolas watched as Gimli made no effort to lift the covers over himself, nor to take off any of this mail or even boots, seemingly content to fall asleep just the way he was. 

The elf sighed, making his way over to his friend who was already beginning to softly snore. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him that Gimli was in proper sleepwear (though a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that he knew  _ exactly  _ why), but he wasn’t about to let his friend fall asleep in his uncomfortable clothing. He sat down beside Gimli and began undoing the laces of the dwarf’s boots, sliding one off and beginning work on the other when he heard Gimli sit up. 

“What’re ya doin’, lad?” He asked, voice thick with a need to sleep as well as inebriation. 

“You were going to fall asleep in your boots and mail, which doesn’t seem to be the most comfortable,” Legolas explained, slipping off the other boot and turning to face his friend, who once again seemed to be more flushed than usual. “I was going to wake you so you could attend to the mail on your own, though I thought you may want assistance with your laces.” 

“Didn’t know you cared so much for my comfort,” Gimli said, more to himself than to Legolas, so the elf didn’t answer, busying himself instead with putting the boots to the side as he heard Gimli’s mail shift. He kept his back turned as his friend slipped out of his armor, not turning around until he heard him speak. “When does your watch begin?”

Legolas turned to find Gimli in nothing but his underclothes; a thin grey tunic and a loose pair of pants. It took a lot of willpower to not stare. “Not for another hour I’d suspect.”

Gimli nodded, letting out an affirmative grunt. The two were quiet for a moment until Gimli spoke. “Sit next ta me, if ya will.”

Legolas did as he was told, coming to sit next to the dwarf on his bedroll. Gimli looked at him for a moment. “Now, I’m about to do something, and if it is not to your liking, blame it on the ale and we shall never speak of it again.” 

The elf didn’t even have time to ask what Gimli was speaking of, because the dwarf was grabbing him by the front of his tunic and pressing their lips together. At first, Legolas didn’t move, too stunned to do much of anything but freeze in wonder. But then he felt Gimli pulling away, letting go of his tunic with an apology clearly on the tip of his tongue, and he surged forward to capture Gimli’s lips in his own once more. He placed a hand on Gimli’s shoulder, feeling the dwarf relax under his touch, hand going back to gripping Legolas’ tunic. 

They stayed there for a moment, just feeling the pressure of one another’s lip’s on each other, before Gimli moved his mouth, using his free hand to cup Legolas’ cheek and tilt the elf’s head into a more comfortable position. Legolas sighed into the kiss, parting his lips to let his tongue dart out across Gimli’s lips. He felt the dwarf shiver and open his mouth, meeting Legolas’ tongue with his own. 

They explored each other’s mouths, the taste of ale rich on Gimli’s tongue, and Legolas thought that the taste was much more tolerable this way. He raised a hand to tangle in the dwarf’s hair, pleasantly surprised at the low groan it elicited from him. Experimentally, Legolas grabbed a fistful of hair near the base of Gimli’s neck and pulled, not hard enough to truly hurt, but it made the dwarf arch his neck back and let out a soft moan nonetheless. 

Legolas was only caught slightly off guard by the hands that flew to his hips, and only let out the smallest shout of surprise when those same hands manhandled him into Gimli’s lap. He was even more surprised, and quite flattered when he felt stiffness in Gimli’s lap under him and the way the dwarf’s pupils had nearly doubled in size. He imagined he looked much the same, feeling his own leggings growing tight as a hand made its way south to cup his rear, giving it a hearty squeeze. Unable to resist any longer, Legolas plunged back into kissing Gimli, grinning at the pleased noise that came from his friend. 

Their kisses became rougher, wetter. Legolas reveled in the scratch of Gimli’s beard against his skin every time their lips met, finding himself desiring to rub his face against it, just to feel the scratch. But then Gimli would capture his lower lip in his teeth, timing it expertly with a rough squeeze to the rear or thigh, and Gimli’s beard was the least of Legolas’ worries. He allowed his own hands to wander, as Gimli’s were, running them up and down the dwarf’s broad, yet unfortunately clothed chest, feeling the way the muscles jumped under his touch. He paused at one of Gimli’s nipples, pinching it between his fingers, only to have the grip on his rear tightened further as Gimli bucked up against him. 

Legolas smiled at that, continuing to roll the dwarf’s nipples between his fingers as they rutted against each other. He had no intention of being wed this night, but fooling around in this way wasn’t uncommon amongst elves of his age. (Although, and this thought hit him so hard he had to pull away from Gimli for a long moment, the idea of being wed to the dwarf he was straddling didn’t sound so bad indeed.) Gimli, it seemed, had noticed Legolas’ sudden pause, as he himself had stopped all motion and was staring at his friend most intently. However, before either could say anything, they both heard the sound of approaching footsteps from down the hall. 

In an instant, Legolas was off of Gimli, thankful that their bedrolls were next to each other so he could pretend to be looking intently into his pack for something or other. He watched as Gimli flung his blanket over himself, very deliberately lying on his side, facing Legolas with his eyes screwed shut, feigning sleep. Legolas listened keenly as the footsteps approached, though fortunately, they weren’t any he recognized. The hobbits may have been ignorant, but he was certain that if it were Aragon or Gandalf that had wandered in, he’d at least be getting a look he wasn’t very fond of. Taking a few deep breaths and thanking the stars that he wore a tunic, he grabbed a cloak from his bag and pulled it around his shoulders, fastening it with his back to the stranger who had entered the room. 

“Ah, master elf, are you taking watch tonight?” The mystery person asked, though as he spoke Legolas recognized his voice. 

“Aye, myself and Aragon will be watching tonight.” He finished fastening his cloak before turning to see the amused face of Éomer. “I was simply making sure my friend made it to bed safely before I took my post.” 

Éomer gave him a look that was a little too knowing for his liking. “I believe you’ll find Aragorn waiting for you,” He said before reaching for something besides his bedroll, pocketing it and giving a small bow towards Legolas. “I’ll leave you to finish...preparing.”

Legolas felt his ears turn red, grateful to have already pulled the hood of his cloak up. Rather than speaking, he gave a polite nod and turned back to his pack, waiting until the sound of footsteps were out of range to let out a sigh. 

He heard a chuckle, turning to find Gimli grinning at him. Legolas couldn’t help but grin, letting laughter fall from his lips. 

“I take it we’re done for the evening?” Gimli asked, careful to keep his voice hushed, though there was an amused undercurrent to it. 

“I do believe so,” Legolas said. “Although, my friend, if you remember any of this come tomorrow I do believe we will have much to talk about.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I have kind of an idea for a longer fic for these two maybe? Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> Come yell about these boys with me at @spice_rat on Instagram and @starsongs99 on tumblr


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